


I Promise

by mothmanaintshit



Series: Strange Magic [4]
Category: Strange Magic (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hospitals, Light Angst, Romance, teenage romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-01
Updated: 2015-11-07
Packaged: 2018-04-29 07:53:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5120729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mothmanaintshit/pseuds/mothmanaintshit





	1. First Meeting

** Chapter One: First Meeting **

The first time Bog stumbled into Marianne he had just moved from Scotland. His mother had moved to the States years before him, a month after his father had died. He had the option to stay behind to finish a few more years of school before his mother pulled the ‘Your mother misses you’ Skype call, guilting him into attending his last school year in the States. 

She already had him enrolled in a high school, already bought him a car to get around, bought furniture, made sure everything was ready for him once he arrived…

Except herself.

She never showed up to the airport to pick him up, never called or texted why she hadn’t shown up either. If Bog had the keys to the house he would have just had a cab take him there, but he didn’t. Instead, he went to her work – Knight’s Memorial Hospital – and searched for her there. He knew she was a nurse, knew that her job was hectic and figured she would be standing outside of the hospital when he arrived. He sent her a text telling her he was coming after hailing a cab. 

He was grateful for exchanging some of his currency before leaving Scotland, he had just enough to pay the cab driver. He searched the hospital after getting a visitors pass, again grateful for only having a duffle bag to carry and not an entire lifetime of memories. Security was little to no help with finding his mother, the other nurses kept saying she was on this floor and that floor, leading him and circles and causing him only to hate this damned hospital more. 

He couldn’t help but wonder why the hell only the doctors had pagers.

He was on the fifth floor when he came across a nearly vacant wing, only one patient in the entire wing – he’d never heard of such a thing, the States are officially the weirdest country he’d ever visited – and his curiosity got the best of him.

If someone asked what he was doing here, he could say that he was looking for his mother – which wasn’t a lie, she _could_ be here. So, Bog walked into the wing and looked around until he saw a teenage girl in a room.

The room itself was larger than the others he passed by, making room for the large glass wall the cut the room in half. The glass wall had the feel of the cell Hannibal Lector was put in in ‘ _Silence of the Lambs_ ’, a slot near the edge of the wall – transferring items, pills, papers – nearly matching the description, save for it being non-metal, clear and sanitized for hospital purposes.

Two green latex gloves stuck out from the middle of the glass, able to switch back and forth between sides. The side of the room the girl sat in was dull, no colors other than the original hospital colors – greens, gods, _too_ many greens – a hospital bed rested against the wall, an empty desk with a wooden chair in the corner, a counter with a sink and some hospital instruments placed around it, two doors on opposite sides of her room – one for exit and entry and the other a bathroom – while the side he walked in through sat a few chairs, a table, magazines. 

What was this? 

The teenager was laying upside-down on the bed, mumbling a small tune as she bobbed her socked foot to the beat. Bog raised a brow, taking a few steps back to look back out the hallway. No one else was in the area; this teen was _completely_ alone.

America was only getting weirder by the second.

He stepped back into the room, setting his duffle bag down on a chair as her voice raised. He could hear the music blasting from her headphones. She was going to go deaf by thirty, no doubt. Maybe even sooner. 

“ _I'd give it all to you, letting go of me, reaching as I fall, I know it's already over now_.” Her voice rang through the room, angelic and soft but _raw_. He took a seat next to his duffle bag, crossing his arms, leaning back and stretching his long legs out before crossing his ankles. 

Hell, he just spent the last three hours in traffic and running around this place, he was inclined to take a break.

This teen had a set of lungs on her, that was for certain. Her voice could carry throughout the entire hospital if they opened up the wing. 

He furrowed his brow, frowning. Is this why they cut her off from the rest of the patients? Her _singing_? 

She quickly sat up, twisting out of the bed and landing on her feet. She spun in circles as she sung, her eyes shut but a smile plastered on her plump lips. Her hand held tightly onto her iPod as she started using an air guitar.

“ _You're all I'm reaching for, it’s already over, all I'm reaching for! It's already over now._ ” Her hand ‘dropped’ the air guitar, head dipping down as the music faded.

Her voice was soft as she sang, head still dipped down as her foot softly tapped against the tile. The lyrics felt like more than _just_ lyrics to him, the way she sang this song, how she moved with the music. This was something personal.

“ _I'd give it all to you… I offer up my soul… It's already over, already over **now**!_ ” The air guitar came back with a vengeance, her body relaxing back into the music once again as she sang the last syllable for seconds on end.

Her eyes opened, smirking towards the wooden chair at the corner of the room and sliding over on her socks to it, “ _Give it all to you, letting go of me, reaching as I fall—_ ” She kicked the chair out, stepping onto it and placing her foot on the top of the back. She leaned her body forward, letting the chair fall towards the floor as she pushed off of it, sliding on her knees towards the glass wall and continuing her hair guitar again.

“ _I know it's already over now!_ _Nothing left to lose— Loving you again! I know it's already over **now**! I know it's already over **now**!_ ” She cried out the words, her voice straining as she forced her notes higher and longer, but her voice never went off key. The waver in her voice added the emotion needed for this song.

Bog enjoyed listening to her.

“ _It's already over now! I know it's already over, already ov—_ ” Her singing halted with her air guitar, body freezing as she finally took notice to Bog sitting on the other side of the glass, an intrigued look on his face as he watched her.

“Yer missin’ a syllable.” He held in his smirk.

“— _er_ …” The teen breathed out, pressing pause on her iPod before the next song played. She pulled her headphones back and let them hand around her neck, still kneeling on the ground, she cleared her throat. “I— I’m sorry you had to see… _that_.”

“Why?” He furrowed his brows, tilting his head to the side. “Ah enjoyed it. Ye have an impressive voice.” The teen blushed, blowing some hair from her face as she made herself comfortable on the floor. 

“Ah’m guessin’ yer singin’ is why no one else is in tha wing.” He sat up straighter, pulling his legs under the chair and leaning forward.

She snorted, rolling her eyes and turning her head to the side, “One of the reasons… sure.”

“ _Reasons_?” He raised a brow. “What other reason could there be ta blockin’ off an entire wing?”

“ _Money_.” She spat, glaring down floor. “Anything to keep me alive… and alone—” Her head shot up, “How did you even _get_ in here?”

“Through tha door, like any normal human bein’.” He shrugged, pointing with his thumb to the open door. She looked towards the door, tilting her head confused.

“ _Ah_ …” She shook her head, sighing before looking back at him. “So, you have a name?” 

“Aye.” He nodded, relaxing back against the chair. “Do ye?” 

“ _Aye_.” She snickered, mimicking him with a smile on her face. “Marianne Fairfield, pleasure to meet you.”

“Bog.” He bowed his head to her, “And the pleasure is _mine_ , Marianne.”

“Just ‘Bog’?”

“Aye.” He nodded, “Just Bog.”

“Okay, _Bog_ ,” Marianne smiled, nodding towards his duffle bag, “You going somewhere? Or are you just arriving at the hospital?”

He looked down at the bag, he had completely forgotten what he was here for. “A—Ah jus’ arrived in tha States… My mother wasn’t at the airport to pick me up and I dun have tha key to the house, so Ah’m here looking fer her.”

“She a doctor?” Marianne’s eyes sparkled, leaning her chin in a palm.

“Nah,” He shook his head, smiling, “A nurse. I’ve been up and down tha hospital lookin’ fer her. Ah stumbled across this wing and decided ta look, jus’ in case she was here.”

“I’m guessing she isn’t?” Marianne looked back towards the door.

“Ah, uh… Ah haven’t _looked_.” He admitted, a blush creeping up his neck. “Yer… singing caught me attention.”

Marianne’s back straightened, her own blush mirroring his. “O— oh... well… I—” 

“There you are!” A scratchy voice sounded around the door before a short woman appeared, glaring at Bog. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you!”

“I think she found you.” Marianne teased, smiling at him before looking back at the woman. “Hey, Griselda.” 

“I shoulda figured he’d find his way to you sooner or later, love.” Griselda smiled at her, walking into the room and moving to stand in front of the glass. “How you feeling today?” 

“Tired.” Marianne moaned as she pushed herself up from the floor, she stood a foot taller than Griselda.

Griselda looked past Marianne at the chair on the ground and ‘tsked’, “You shouldn’t be exerting yourself—”

“Awe!” Marianne groaned, her shoulders slumping down as she pouted her bottom lip out. “Come on, Grizzy—” 

“ _Griselda_ —”

“You can’t expect me to just sit around in this stupid bubble and wait to die. I need action, _adventure_ —”

“Sliding across the ground in jeans _barely_ constitutes as an adventure, dearie.” Griselda smirked at Marianne’s flushed cheeks.

Marianne turned to the side, frowning, “I— I know… I’m sorry.” Marianne moved over to the chair and picked it up, sliding it back against the desk. Bog frowned at his mother’s back.

“Soon.” Griselda said once Marianne looked back towards her. “You’ll be out of here soon.”

“You said that _four_ years ago…” Marianne’s frown deepened as she walked back towards them, sliding a hand under the collar of her shirt to rub her shoulder.

_Four years?_

Bog pushed himself up, walking to stand behind his mother.

“How lo—”

“Holy shit!” Marianne’s eyes widened up at Bog, standing nearly two feet taller than her. “Y—You’re… You’re _huge_! Oh my _god_! I—I mean, your legs looked long but— holy _shit_ , Bog!”

“Two dollars in the ‘Swear Jar’.” Griselda pointed a finger at Marianne.

“Yeah, yeah.” Marianne waved her off, her eyes focused on Bog. “How tall are you?”

Bog sighed, “Seven feet… four inches…”

“Holy shit—”

“ _Marianne_!”

“What’s the weather like up there?” Marianne’s face was breaking from her shit-eating grin.

“Ye thing yer so funny, dun you?” He grumbled, crossing his arms.

“I _am_ funny.” Marianne leaned back, mirroring his stance. “I am the _pinnacle_ of humor.”

“Sure ye are.” He raised a brow. Griselda snorted between the two, rolling her eyes.

“Boggy, I—”

“ _Boggy_?” Marianne’s eyes lit up at the nickname, a smirk growing on her face as Bog groaned and glared down at her mother.

“ _Ma_! _Really_?”

“We need to get you settled back home. I need to go over a few things with you before I let you go off into the world—”

“Mother, I— _Ouch_!” Marianne laughed as Bog was dragged out by his ear by Griselda. “Bye-bye, _Boggy_! Come back soon!”

“ _Bog_!” He yelled back at her, his voice borderline irritated but he couldn’t help but smile.


	2. Henchmen

The second time was on purpose. She had invited him, or at least he thought she had – come back soon was almost like an invitation – but the issue now was the men who suddenly were guarding the entrance to the wing, scary looking – not to him, per say, but obviously intent to scary off anyone who dared enter the wing who was not allowed to – and he started to have second thoughts about seeing her. He’d be lying to himself if he said the past week he rarely thought of the spunky teenager whose voice he couldn’t get out of his head. So, he pushed through, walking straight up to the two men.

“Something we can help you with?” One of the three men asked, raising an eyebrow at Bog. Though Bog had a few inches on two of the men, at least one foot with the other, he wasn’t built like them. At least if things suddenly took a turn for the worse he was already at a hospital.

“Ah’m here to see Marianne Fairfield.” He stated, shoving his hands in his sweater pockets. “She invited me.”

The shorter man pulled out his phone, “Name?”

“Uh… Bog.”

All three looked at each other before looking back at him. “ _Just_  Bog?”

“...Aye?”

The three men quickly surveyed the hallway before opening the doors, “Mr. Fairfield just left, you’ll have the entire day free, without worry.”

Bog raised an eyebrow as he was ushered in, before he could even get a word in the door shut behind him and he was alone in the wing. He stared oddly at the door before walking away, heading towards Marianne’s room.

“Ah didn’t realize ye were from an evil organization.” Bog commented once he opened the door, his eyes still trained down the hallway on the doors to the wing. “Henchmen! Ah did nah think they actually existed.”

“They’re my  _fathers_  personal body guards.” Marianne commented dryly from the desk, flipping through a magazine, “Well… Now they’re _mine_. Just needed to play my cards right.”

Bog shut the door behind him and entered, raising an eyebrow at the re-arranged and new furniture. No more crappy hospital furniture! On his side of the glass sat a leather loveseat, pressed against the wall next to the glass where the slot to transfer items between the two sides was. Two recliners sat in the middle of the room, an oval coffee table sat between the glass and the chairs. The lights on his side of the room had been shut off while Marianne’s side had dimmed. 

Marianne, on the other hand, had no new furniture. If anything her room looked even more bleak than before because of the upgrade to this side. 

“Take a seat, Bog.” Marianne smiled, shrugging. “You don’t need to stand behind of me.”

He nodded, moving over to the loveseat placed next to the glass. “If ye dun mind meh askin’… What happened?”

“My dad is back in the country for a while and…” Another shrug, another flip of a page. “Well…  _He_  needs to be comfortable when he visits his ill-stricken daughter.”

Marianne snorted, shutting the magazine and standing, “ _Asshole_.”

“What about you?” Bog raised an eyebrow, motioning with his chin to her side of the room. “Don’ ye deserve ta be comfortable.”

“Of course I do.” Marianne sighed, gripping the edge of the chair as she walking towards Bog, the chair sliding on the floor behind her. “But I don’t have the money to do it… Plus, my dad would freak. He doesn’t want me any sicker than I already am.”

Bog nodded, averting his eyes to the recliners and rubbing the back of his neck. That was a topic he wanted to ask about – why was she sick? What did she have? – but he didn’t know if it would be rude here in the States to ask such a question. This was a big adjustment from Scotland. He cleared his throat and shook his head, moving to face her while sitting indian style on the couch.

“Why does ye father need body guards?”

Marianne chewed her lip, brows furrowing as she thought. Bog had already thought four careers this man could have: One being a Mobster, either  _The Boss_  or  _The Boss of All Bosses_. Two being a celebrity. Three being some Political Power, he didn’t know American Politics very well. Four being a high-class criminal, a hitman with his own bodyguards – it sounded stupid, even to Bog.

“To be honest,” Marianne took a deep breath, running a hand through her hair as she fell down against the chair, she dryly laughed and shook her head, “I don’t even know? He’s said ‘entrepreneur’ to ‘business man’ to ‘miracle worker’ – I just… I just don’t know.” Marianne’s shoulders deflated, eyes falling to look down at the ground.

“What about yer mother?” Bog leaned forward, his arms resting against his thigh.

Marianne smiled sadly, picking her head back up to look at Bog, “She died a couple… a couple years ago…” Marianne looked back down, frowning at her palms. “She became depressed after my sister was born… and in the end she…”

“Oh.” Bog looked down at the leather, frowning. “Marianne, Ah’m so sorry… Ah—”

“Hey.” Marianne smiled, shrugging once again. “Shit happens, right?”

Bog slowly nodded, his eyes wide as he watched Marianne fidget in her chair. His own thoughts fell to his father. A once strong man, dead without a moments notice. He understood death, understood shit happened all too well – He nodded again to Marianne, who nodded back in turn – and so did she.

Bog quickly changed the subject, asking about her sister.

“She stays in the area while my father goes off to do… whatever the hell it is he does.” Marianne smiled, leaning her chin in her palm as she looked towards the door. “She’s actually supposed to be visiting today with a friend, Sunny, but I have no idea if she’s still sticking to those plans.” 

“When they come, Ah can leave.” Bog mumbled. “I dun—” 

“You don’t  _have_  to leave.” Marianne cut him off, looking back at him. “I’d love for you two to meet.”

“… Okay.” He said breathlessly. She  _wanted_  him to stay  _and_  to met her sister? “Ah can do that.”

“O—Only if it isn’t too much trouble!” Marianne quickly added, a small blush dusting across her cheeks. “I—I don’t want to keep you from whatever you’ll be doing today.”

“I’s fine.” He mumbled, averting his eyes and running a hand through his hair as a blush crept up his neck. “A—Ah didn’t have much planned today anyhow.”

Marianne smiled, leaning her arms forward against the back of the chair. “So, while we wait, tell me about yourself, Bog.”


End file.
